


Ticklish

by butterflyslinky



Series: Alphabet One-Shots [20]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Crack, Gen, Hogwarts Founders Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-29 05:28:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6361324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butterflyslinky/pseuds/butterflyslinky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Never tickle a sleeping dragon. This should be fairly obvious, but Godric Gryffindor, the bravest man in England, has never cared about the obvious.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ticklish

**Author's Note:**

> Written February, 2011. I have always been fascinated by the Hogwarts school motto and knew there had to be a story there. I was going to make it longer, with more comedic running around, but couldn't think of anything more, so I left it here. To date, this is my most popular one-shot. Oh, and if you're wondering where Helga Hufflepuff is, I couldn't find room for her in the story, so... she's off tending the green houses.

Hogwarts—the greatest Wizarding school of all. A stone castle, rising high above the surrounding plains and hidden from sight. And the greatest wizards to teach in it.  
  
“’Tis good,” Rowena Ravenclaw nodded. “But we are yet in want of a motto.”  
  
“Why are we in want of such?” Salazar Slytherin asked.  
  
“Our students will want to have words to live up to,” Ravenclaw answered. “Words that will be remembered forever.”  
  
Slytherin glanced at Godric Gryffindor. Gryffindor was the one who came up with everything Ravenclaw didn’t and if Ravenclaw didn’t have a motto yet, Gryffindor would have to say one.  
  
Gryffindor nodded. “Never tickle a sleeping dragon,” he said.  
  
The others stared. “What sort of motto is that?” Ravenclaw asked.  
  
“A very practical one,” Gryffindor answered.  
  
Slytherin laughed. “Practical? How?”  
  
Gryffindor sighed. He really didn’t feel like it, but they asked.  
  
*  
  
Dragon’s caves were always hot, but they were even hotter after drinking eight pints of ale.  
  
But of course, after drinking eight pints of ale, it didn’t occur to Gryffindor to run away. After all, he had his sword. And it wasn’t like there would be any harm.  
  
It was all his friend Regivald’s fault, of course. Regivald had had almost as much as Gryffindor when things got out of hand.  
  
“I am the bravest man in England!” Gryffindor had shouted. “And I will prove it with wand or sword!”  
  
“Indeed, Gryffindor,” Regivald responded. “Then I challenge thee. Not far from here is the cave of a dragon, the most dangerous in the land. I challenge thee to go and tickle it—where it has no scales.”  
  
“I fear it not!” Gryffindor proclaimed drunkenly. “I shall go at once!”  
  
With that, Gryffindor threw down a Galleon and strode away.  
  
It had taken him little time to find the dragon’s cave. After all, there weren’t very many dragons in this part of England. Many had been killed by various knights and wizards, but most of the dragons had moved closer to places where there were more fair damsels to carry off. This particular part of England was made up of peasants and stupid, reckless young warriors.  
  
Stupid, reckless young warriors like Gryffindor.  
  
Despite the ale, Gryffindor still had the sense to be quiet as he approached the dragon’s cave. He listened intently. Bravest man in England or not, he was not going to tickle a dragon that happened to be awake. A sleeping dragon would be much easier to approach.  
  
Luckily, Gryffindor heard the faint sounds of a dragon’s snore. He had fought enough dragons to know the sound by now. It was reassuring, slow and deep, and every time the dragon breathed out, a gust of warm wind flooded out of the cave.  
  
Slowly, carefully, Gryffindor crept into the cave, his sword in one hand—goblin-made and tougher than any dragon—and his wand in the other. If the dragon woke up, the Conjunctivis curse would be the first move.  
  
The dragon wasn’t terribly big. Gryffindor could tell that it wasn’t fully mature yet, though it was old enough to be on its own. It was a common Welsh green. Nothing too elaborate. Gryffindor had dealt with a lot of Welsh greens before. Regivald must have been mistaken. This couldn’t be the most dangerous dragon in all the land.  
  
The only place that wasn’t armored was just below the arm. Gryffindor sheathed his sword and moved forward. The dragon was lying on its back. At least he wouldn’t have to crawl around to find the unarmored place.  
  
Gryffindor reached out and found the spot and tickled the dragon.  
  
There was a sudden roar as the dragon woke up. Gryffindor leaped back and aimed his wand at the dragon’s eye. He began to shout the Conjuntivis spell, but then hastily changed it to a Flame-Freezing charm as the dragon began breathing fire at him. As soon as the dragon stopped breathing fire, Gryffindor turned tail and ran, but it was a very brave and manly run.  
  
The dragon was not impressed by how brave or manly Gryffindor was. It only cared about the fact that, one, it had been woken up, and two, there was a tasty looking human near the cave. So naturally, as soon as Gryffindor was out of the cave and heading down the mountain, the dragon started flying after him.  
  
Gryffindor heard the dragon and decided it was time to stop trying to run. He knew from long experience that it was useless to try and run away from a dragon, especially while drunk. Gryffindor turned on the spot and Apparated. It was a relatively new magic, Apparition, but Gryffindor was in no mood to mull over the implications of trying a new and possibly dangerous magic when there was a very dangerous dragon chasing him.  
  
After several minutes of nauseating spinning, exacerbated by the ale, Gryffindor landed face down on what felt like very thick and luxurious carpet in an unknown location. He hadn’t been thinking too hard about where he was going, after all, as long as he was away from the dragon. It was only after there was a loud and piercing shriek that he bothered to look up.  
  
And then he realized that he had landed in a lady’s bedchamber and the lady was incredibly shocked to find a man suddenly on her carpet.  
  
Gryffindor had never been in a situation like this before, though several of his friends had, so he knew what to expect. The lady would yell for the guards and Gryffindor would either end up in a dungeon or banished from the land, depending on the importance of the lady. “Please do not scream,” he groaned. “I already have a headache.”  
  
“What dost thou mean, Sir,” the lady, a very attractive lady, asked. “By appearing in such manner in a place where thou art certainly not welcome?”  
  
“I did not mean anything,” Gryffindor assured her. “I was Apparating away from a dragon and missed my location.”  
  
“Apparating away from a dragon?” the lady repeated. “Thou art a coward. Thou ought to have faced it in battle.”  
  
“I intended to,” Gryffindor said. “I really did, only I could not draw my sword in time and even the bravest of men, which I am, does not wish for death.”  
  
The lady was clearly not impressed, though she at least hadn’t called the guards yet.  
  
“But if it doth please thou, my lady,” Gryffindor continued. “I shall leave thy fair side and go back to my home.”  
  
The lady rolled her eyes imperiously. “It doth please me very much,” she said. “And next time thou art running away, go somewhere besides a lady’s bedchamber or I shall curse thou as such a coward deserves.”  
  
Gryffindor flinched briefly at her words, but bowed and quickly Apparated back to his own village.  
  
Regivald was waiting for him. “So, hast thee faced thy dragon?”  
  
“Indeed,” Gryffindor answered. “A more vicious creature would be difficult to imagine.”  
  
“And did thee slay the beast?”  
  
“Nay. It was too fast for me.”  
  
“Pity,” Regivald said. “But thee can always return to fight it again.”  
  
“Thank you, Regivald, but I’d rather not,” Gryffindor said.  
  
Though it would disprove the notion that he was a coward.  
  
*  
  
“It may be a bit practical,” Slytherin admitted after Gryffindor had finished his tale. “I am indeed surprised that thou came out of the encountered with nothing wounded but thy pride.”  
  
“And none knew of that except the lady,” Ravenclaw pointed out. “In light of your story, Gryffindor, I agree that it would be a splendid motto.”  
  
“But in Latin,” Slytherin added. “It would sound more impressive. What would ‘never tickle a sleeping dragon’ be in Latin?”  
  
“Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus,” Ravenclaw translated.  
  
Gryffindor nodded. “’Tis good,” he proclaimed.


End file.
